The Point of No Return
by Kimmeth
Summary: At a crucial point in her relationship with Raoul, Christine wonders whether she will ever be free of the Phantom… Rated for implied adult content. Oneshot.


**Summary: **At a crucial point in her relationship with Raoul, Christine wonders whether she will ever be free of the Phantom… Rated for implied adult content. Oneshot.

**Disclaimer: **Alas, I own nought but the plot. The characters belong to Gaston Leroux, and the inspiration-giving music to Andrew Lloyd-Webber.

**Note: **Not much to say really. Just enjoy my last fic of 2010!

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**The Point of No Return**

If Christine is going to be brutally honest, then she is disappointed. After all she has read in contraband books smuggled into the opera house by the more adventurous chorus members; after all she has heard from the giggling whispers of the _corps de ballet_; after all she has dreamed of alone at night, she had expected to feel more on her wedding night. But no. All she can feel is an aching soreness inside her that won't subside and Raoul's warm weight moving against her. They have passed the point of no return; they are truly man and wife now, forsaking all others. When Christine made her vows, she knew that she was going to have to make a choice, a choice to forget or to accept. She has chosen to forget, to forget the incomparable and unrepeatable influence that Erik has had in her life. After all, when one marries, one gives oneself to a single partner for life; heart, body and soul. Raoul has always had her heart, and right now he has her body, but her soul… Christine's soul is already claimed, belonging to another. She loves Raoul, she loves him honestly and truly from the bottom of her heart, but her soul, as battered and tattered from the traumas of the past few months as it is, is crying out for another.

Christine has made her choice. She has passed the point of no return and she was prepared for it when it came. She decided not to throw caution to the wind in search of a completed soul. She decided to content herself with a happy marriage and a completed heart. After everything that happened in the opera house, Christine has been desperate for safety, stability and security, and Raoul represents all three. He will take care of her. He will never do anything that would threaten or harm her, and he will never harm those she loves. He is kind and loving, and not at all dangerous. But sometimes, the element of danger is what makes life worth living. Christine scolds herself mentally; she should not be thinking of such things, especially not now, not in the circumstances. This is Raoul, he is here and she loves him.

But however much she loves him, Christine still cannot help but feel disappointed at their union. This is the most animal and most intimate love that man and woman can share but she would not undergo the experience again in a hurry. She bites her tongue, Perhaps this is how it is really meant to be. Perhaps she had it wrong before. Perhaps the music, which had taught her to anticipate such heady desire and pleasure, has been lying. But in Christine's experience, music never lies. It is almost an entity of its own accord, it touches parts of her psyche that she never knew existed, but it never lies. The music has always led her to believe that it would be more. Perhaps it is because Raoul is not a musical man. He does not understand its untamed power, the power to move and transport to lands and times unknown.

When she first feels the music, _his_ music, Christine thinks she is dreaming, imagining things. Maybe she is, but she would rather believe otherwise. She can feel his influence and she accepts it wholeheartedly, knowing that however much she might try, she will never be able to forget it. His voice and his words took up residence in her mind and have become as part and parcel of her being as her own thoughts. It is futile to try and separate them, his music has become so deeply embedded within her own that it is impossible to try and untangle their individual tunes. She can feel him, singing her ears below the sound of Raoul's panting, a song whose words speak of the things she should be feeling. Memory or fabrication, Christine neither knows nor cares. She can feel him, ghostly fingertips all over her skin, reaching places that no living touch could, soothing away her pain. She can feel him, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside her mind. She will never be free of him, and it is only now that Christine realises that she never _wants_ to be free of him. She never wants to be free of this man of mystery who can teach her the enigmas and wonders of music and love, for what else matters in this world? Nothing, thinks Christine, as she feels she cannot bear any more, as if she is dying and melting. For a moment, her soul is mended, fulfilled, complete, and as Raoul gasps out her name, her lips form around a tumble of words.

"_Sing for me, my angel of music."_


End file.
